


love has moved me and makes me speak

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cannibalism, Cannibalism Puns, Cooking, Episode: s02e10 Naka-Choko, First Kiss, Fix-It, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: While dining on lomo saltado, his conversation with Will causes Hannibal to make a rash decision.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 118
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020, Hannibal Bingo





	love has moved me and makes me speak

**Author's Note:**

> **hannibal bingo:** lomo saltado  
>  **fffc's 100th special:** cooking
> 
> i've eaten lomo saltado before, specifically at the airport in Lima, and i still recall fondly how the first time i watched naka-choko i went "WHAT" when hannibal said he was going to make lomo saltado. 
> 
> enjoy!

Hannibal's heart leaps when Will says that the meat was a slim, delicate pig.

There is no doubt in his mind that this is Freddie Lounds. Some part of her. It plays at him, makes his whole body feel light, like there is nothing in the world that could go wrong now. He _has_ Will, he has him, he will cook with him and they will live together in Florence with their dear daughter. He can't wait to tell Abigail what happened when he goes to the cliffside house. She'll be excited as well, he's sure.

"I'll make lomo saltado," he tells Will. "Would you like to help?"

Will smiles. "Of course," he says.

"You slice the ginger."

He lets out an incredulous little laugh, rolling his eyes. "I do, indeed."

There is a moment's pause before Hannibal grabs one of his knives and offers it to Will. Silence covers them like a blanket, makes it hard to breathe. He hopes that Will is aware of how big this is, how important this is to him— he is very careful about what he puts in his body. Offering a knife, offering a sous-chef position to Will, is little steps away from a love declaration.

Will grabs the knife, nods at him as he goes to slice the ginger.

They spend the hours cooking in relative silence. While he slices the meat in fair portions, he looks over it. It is definitely human, there is no question about that. It has all the properties he has become accustomed to, all the little lines that mark it off from the rest, from pork and beef and such.

"This dish originates from Peru," Hannibal explains as he works on the rice. "The soy sauce, rice and potatoes are a wonderful admixture of the cultures in the country. In the nineteenth century, there was an influx of Chinese workers that emigrated to South America— various countries, but one of the most touched by it is Peru, with this typical dish of theirs."

"Mm." Will huffs. "Where did you learn to prepare this, Hannibal? Went to South America on some _business_ trip?"

He smiles, shakes his head a modicum. "I have always liked to travel around the world. I haven't travelled in a couple years, but one of my last destinations were various countries in Latin America. I thoroughly enjoyed this plate, so I managed to get the recipe from a particularly rude chef."

Will laughs at that. "Of course," he says. "Cooked him into his own recipe, didn't you?"

He gives him a little shrug before starting to plate the food. It is dinner for two, something he is not used to— it's a date, by all means, the way they are alone, having cooked together, now to eat the fruits of their labor together. It is rather intimate, like a song and dance, like blood shared among their lips.

With the first bite, he looks at him, considers him. 

"There are certain tastes that guide us toward the state of mind of livestock before its death," Hannibal says. He clears his throat. "This animal tastes frightened."

"What does frightened taste like?"

"Acidic. It has notes of citrus."

Will looks at him. "The meat is bitter about being dead."

He can't help it— he breaks into a huge grin at that, and Will replies just in kind.

They stay there, in relative silence, for a bit more, before Hannibal finally breaks the silence. 

"What you have given me is not pork, Will. What is it?"

Will regards him with such interest, such _genuine_ curiosity, that it makes him feel like he is going to die. His heart speeds up, pumps blood faster, his stomach tying up in knots.

"It's long pig."

That's enough for Hannibal to reach over the table and pull Will into a kiss. It is something uncharacteristically rude of him, he knows, but he simply cannot stand going on about his life without giving Will a kiss. Not after this, not after all of this.

Will gasps into his mouth, eyes widening before they flutter shut. He puts his hands on his cheeks and kisses back, standing up to get better reach. After a while, he pulls away, his eyes glinting with self-satisfaction. It's a very attractive look, Hannibal will give him that.

He clears his throat. He's aware that things can and still may go wrong. He needs to play his cards carefully. He has Will, he cannot let him go now. He wishes he could give him his all, give him the theatrics he deserves, for him to learn that Abigail is alive at the very last moment, when the veil lifts from everyone else's eyes. But—

"Abigail is alive," he tells him, looking into his eyes.

Will's eyes widen. He swallows. He stays silent for several seconds, thinking it over. "That is why only the ear, no?"

"Yes," he replies. "She is alright." 

"Can I tell you a secret of mine, then?"

"Yes."

"Freddie Lounds isn't dead. It was all an elaborate trick for you to fall into a trap. For you to trust me more."

Hannibal's eyes widen. He starts to feel the stab of betrayal playing at him, but if Will told him it's because that plan has been undone, perhaps by his confession of Abigail's status. He swallows. 

"The meat is still long pig, though, is it not?"

"Yes." A pause. "Randall Tier."

"Of course." He tilts his head. "Would you like to kill her now, Will? No lies, now— just us doing what I have always wanted for the both of us?"

He looks at him. His blue eyes are sparkling with his curiosity, his empathy, as he reaches over to lay his hand over Hannibal's chest, feeling his heartbeat, the way it steadies and picks up its pace.

"I would love to," he replies, letting out a sigh, like a breath he had been holding for years. "Most of my affiliation with the FBI and my wishes for you to be imprisoned came from Abigail's death. But if she's alive…"

"If she is alive, you would like to join me?" he finishes for him.

"Yes," he replies. "I'd like to see her, though. I'm sorry for not trusting you, but I'm sure you understand why."

"Of course." Hannibal clears out their plates and takes them to the kitchen, onto the sink. He can wash them later. "We can drive to the house she's in," he says. "You'll see her."

Will follows him to the kitchen and pulls him into another kiss. "Okay."

As they stay there, silent, listening to each other's heartbeats, Hannibal finds himself thankful of the fact he decided to lean in and kiss Will when he said it was long pig. Otherwise, their world might not have looked the same.


End file.
